An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak (Heartsong, #1)

by Jennifer Hartmann

“I said nine-thirty,” he continues.

Lies he said 9AM. I have receipts

When you care about someone, you worry about them, no matter what. That’s just the way it is.

He tosses a twenty-dollar bill atop the bar counter as he stands, and before he turns to leave, he swipes up the napkin that holds Nash’s note and crumples it in his fist. Then he turns to me. He turns to me ever so slightly, the musk of his cologne fusing with the spell of his next words. “You sing like a fucking angel.”

All I hear are the words of a young boy, sprawled out on the pavement, staring up at me with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes as the sun sets my hair ablaze like a halo. “Are you…an angel?”

As I stand here with tears tickling my cheekbones, I know that life’s truest treasures live inside the unexpected moments. The little curveballs that sweep us off our feet and steal our breath. I told my parents the bike was the best gift I ever received, and nothing could ever top it. I meant it at the time. But then… Cal smiled at me.

“I haven’t had sex in two years, Lucy.” I gasp before my mouth snaps shut. Cal tosses the papers on a shelf and turns toward me, his eyes flaring. Wild and magnetic. Burning into me like violent embers. He takes a single step forward until he’s only inches away and sweeps his gaze across my face. And then he says in a low, steady voice, “God help the woman who breaks that streak.”

Before I can inhale another breath, one arm dips beneath my knees while the other cradles my back. He lifts me in the air and pulls me to him, whispering, “Fuck, sunshine, I got you.”

Things that make us sad aren’t all bad. Sometimes, sad things serve as a gentle reminder that we still feel.